


❝Bone Me.❞ || Sans x Obama

by babajansofficial



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bottom Barack Obama, Dom/sub, Fluff, Gay Sex, M/M, Obama bottoms, PogChamp, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Smut, Unfinished, Work In Progress, im in genuine pain, obama twink, pog - Freeform, poggers, sans x obama, sans x obama smut, sansbama, sansbama smut, shitpost, twinkbama, undertale - Freeform, what the fuck am I doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babajansofficial/pseuds/babajansofficial
Summary: ❝"Sans, I need you, right here, right now," Obama gasped out. "Fuck me. Bone me. Please."Sans stood there for a moment, processing the situation and wondering if what was happening was real. He cleared his throat, and responded back to him, his voice low and husky."...It would be my pleasure, Mr. President."❞this feels like a bad acid trip || written by donk and bean
Relationships: Barack Obama/Donald Trump, Sans (Undertale)/Barack Obama
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. The Oval Office

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this I am so genuinely sorry

Sans walked into the white house with a black suit and tie, the ends of his lips turned downwards. humans stared him down as he walked by.

Monsters had only recently been let out of the surface. The news had already spread but people were still judgmental, peering eyes looking at him everywhere he went.

Sans was escorted into the Oval Office by some tall men in dark suits much nicer than his, which he found at a thrift store. _They're kind of cute, I would hit that_.

Arriving, he peered around, an impressed look on his face. _Damn, this place is nice._ He tried his best to look sophisticated as he walked to the president's desk.

The chair swiveled around and revealed Obama, sitting with his fingertips touching and his palms apart. The way he held himself alone gave off an "I won't take your shit, but i'll say it in the politest way possible" kind of vibe. It was clear that this was the man that was behind the proverbial steering wheel of the country. His eyes were dark, piercing, intelligent; his black hair graying. The suit he wore was tight fitted, showing off the vague shape of his body. Sans knew that he had entered his territory, and he wasn't allowed to mess this up.

But all he could focus on was how _sexy_ this man looked. His skin so soft, the wrinkles around his eyes so delicate and welcoming. Sans imagined biting into him and leaving him broken, begging for more. He wanted to feel the power of dominating this man. He wanted to feel the power of dominating the president of the united states.

Sans caught himself staring, visibly lusting for him. He snapped out of his daze and loosened the collar of his shirt a little. "Mr. President, sir," he greeted, his deep voice vibrating in the area where his throat would be. "It's truly an honor to meet you."

Obama stood up and smiled. "It is an honor to meet you as well. You came here with the, uh, intent of discussing land and changes beneficial for monster kind, correct? I read your request and I, uh, think something could be arranged." He shook Sans' hand.

Sans took a seat in front of him. "Well, you see, I'd like to talk to you about the struggles of integrating monsters into a human dominating society, and how we could possibly minimize the negative effects of things such as discrimination and poverty..."

Meanwhile, Obama stared at the arousing skeleton sitting in front of him. It was the first monster he'd seen in person for quite a while. He'd seen pictures on his Instagram of him walking around his home town of Snowdin in the Underground, his blue jacket draped around his body in a haphazard fashion. He had looked so cute and charming.

But now, watching the skeleton sitting in front of him in a high collar button-up shirt and black suit pants, Obama heard his heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt cornered, even with his bodyguards standing around the room. Sans was a lion in the wild African savannah, and Obama was a powerless gazelle under its carnivorous gaze.

Oh, the things he wanted this monster to do to him. He tried keeping the lustful thoughts at bay, but it was almost too much to handle. He wanted desperately to grab him then and there and tear off his clothes, but he knew better than that, so he stayed put.

"Uh, yes, of course," he responded, trying to hide his horniness (and massive boner). "I'd like to hear, uh, what you've got in mind. I'm interested in hearing ideas from a representative of monster kind. That way, I could, uh, help in passing laws that would benefit you the most and strive for true peace between us all."

"I was thinking we could set up shelters or some sort of program that helps monsters in need, especially since it's so difficult for them to find jobs right now," Sans began. "After that, we can attempt to find a solution to systematic discrimination towards young monsters in the US school system and create ways to help them seek higher education."

Obama nodded in agreement. 

As Sans began sprouting ideas, he seemed to get one himself, raising his hand suddenly - motioning for him to stop speaking. Sans went silent, obedient although confused. _What? Did I say the wrong thing?_

"Sans, uh... Hold that thought. I want you to stay put. Everyone else, please, uh, exit the room."

"But President Obama," one member of the Secret Service objected, "We can't leave you unattended and risk leaving you in any potentially dangerous situation."

He shook his head. "Nonsense. I can handle this, step outside. There is nothing he could, uh, possibly do to me. We're having a civil discussion. If I need you I will tell you."

"But he's a monster, we don't know what he's capable of, sir. They have powers and we worry this is—"

"Excuse me? I said, I could handle myself. You are disrespecting my, uh, client and disturbing our conversation. Please leave." The officer's words earned a cold glare that would make even the bravest of people shit their pants.

They stood, shocked for a moment, before nodding and exiting in reluctance. 

_Shit, not so cute when they're calling me a danger to the very man I want to get laid with. Hm, actually no, being dangerous is pretty hot so I'll just take that as a compliment._

After they closed the door, Obama sat back down. "I, uh, apologize on their behalf, Mr. Undertale. Please, continue."

Sans hadn't been very stunned at what the guards had said, that type of subtle discrimination was what he had become accustomed to while working outside of the underground. However, no one had stood up for him the way he just had. Not knowing what to say, he gave him an appreciative nod, continuing his proposition.

As they talked, they stared into each other's eyes, almost detecting each other's arousal. Their souls felt like they were dancing around one another in harmony, the homoerotic tension growing by the second.

Once Sans finished speaking about his plans, they sat quietly for a short moment, their faces but inches apart. Sans chuckled anxiously. "Heh, is it uh, hot in here? Or is it just me—"

He was cut off by soft lips touching his, a heavy blush covering his cheekbones. He almost moaned right there, he wanted this so badly. He was sort of taken aback, but he quickly adjusted, letting his hands caress the president's neck and back.

Obama pulled away suddenly, leaving Sans flushed, horny, and visibly disappointed. "Sans, I need you, uh, right here, right now," Obama gasped out. "Fuck me. _Bone_ me. Please."

Sans stood there for a moment, processing the situation and wondering if what was happening was real. He cleared his throat, and responded back to him, his voice low and husky. 

"...It would be my pleasure, Mr. President."

Upon hearing those words, Obama practically threw himself onto him, making out with him roughly. Sans moaned into his lips, letting his hands wander around his back and mess around with the rim of his pants. 

Obama noticed his impatience, a smile tugging at the ends of already bruised lips. He pulled away once again, this time to unbutton his clothes. Sans did the same, and watching the other undress just made their lust stronger. He led him to the couch and immediately got into the bottom position, Sans smirking.

He got on top of him and bit Obama's lower lip, demanding entrance to his mouth. Obama teased him, keeping his lips shut, but gasped as Sans ran his fingers down his thigh. Sans took advantage of Obama's shock and coiled his glowing tongue around his partner's.

"You're going to drive me mad," Sans whispered against his lips. "Stop trying to tease me, I know you want it."

"I uh, strive to please," Obama smirked, almost getting cut off by one of his own moans as Sans rubbed his massive presidential cock with his bony hand. He grazed it up and down teasingly with his fingers, the man underneath him's eyes rolling back into his head. "Hnngh... Sans, please..." he whispered breathily.

He grinned into his neck, continuing to tease him with his fingers. "You know, before I came here, I did some research on you, Mr. President... found out your name... your real one, at least."

His breath hitched, staring into Sans's eye sockets from below him. 

"Isn't that right, Obama? Obama... Undertale?" Sans muttered huskily into the President's ear, sending shivers down his spine.

He went dead silent for just a moment, visible shock and alarm shooting up his body. He gulped and cleared his throat, an attempt to calm himself before speaking once more.

"... I figured it was, uh, only a matter of time before somebody found out, but not so soon... You're, okay with this...?" Obama asked hesitantly. The uncertainty in his voice drove Sans wild.

He chuckled softly, licking his lips. "We're cousins, yeah. I know..." Sans grabbed his ass suddenly and he gasped, shuddering from the skeleton's touch. "But the thing is, darling..." 

"I don't care."


	2. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back (by unpopular demand), and ready to give you more sansbama. you're welcome.
> 
> this chapter is mostly fluff, cuddling after aggressive gay sex lmao enjoy i guess

Obama wrapped his limbs around Sans, resting against the skeleton’s ribcage. They laid on the floor in front of the desk — they’d fallen off of it at some point, maybe during the intense cock and ball torture. Obama’s stapler was now unusable.

Soft skin pressed against fabric and bone. Obama’s fingers intertwined with Sans’s, their rapid breathing slowing to a calmer pace. Sweat adorned both the president’s and the monster’s foreheads. Sans’s free hand stroking his skin offered comfort, helping him relax his tensed muscles.

They recovered from their “session” alarmingly quick. Obama chalked it up to Sans’s capability of knowing how to pleasure a man. He found it so easy, which made him yearn for his gentle touch even more.

Sans smiled softly at his partner as he shifted around in his embrace, bringing his hand up to gently caress his cheek. The president was surprisingly fragile when it came to cuddling, but could you blame him? He’d been touch starved for his entire presidency.

_He should have a label that says “HANDLE WITH CARE” slapped onto his forehead._

He smirked at the thought.

“What’s, uh, so funny?” Obama asked innocently.

“Nothing,” Sans reassured, stroking the man’s back. “You just look so peaceful like this. It’s adorable.”

Obama closed his eyes and purred in response. There were piles of unorganized papers strewn across the table and floor. They were in neat stacks before the duo had decided to go to town — he took a mental note to help clean up around the room before he left.

“You're a great stress reliever, you know,” he murmured after a while, head pressed into Sans’s chest. “These Republicans don’t let me, uh, do anything without throwing a fit about it.”

He replied by planting tender kisses on his forehead. Obama laughed softly, happily accepting the attention before continuing. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve, uh, accomplished nothing at all,” he admitted. “So many people, uh, look up to me. I can never get anything done.”

Sans made a face, surprised he could think that way about himself. “Come on, don’t say that. You’re an amazing leader.” He pulled him closer. “… an amazing lover, too.”

Obama let out an embarrassed giggle. “As I said, I, uh, strive to please.” Sans smiled sheepishly at his words.

For a minute, they went silent. Comfortable silence, but silence nonetheless.

“…Do you think, America’ll ever have a monster for president?”

Obama’s hands lingered at Sans’s waist as he leaned up and touched foreheads with his partner, his eyes closed. “Maybe, one day. The truth is a lot of the American, uh, people aren’t very open minded to things they don’t understand. Not just, uh, monsters, their own kind too. Hell, there hasn’t even been a woman president yet.” He cupped his lover’s face in his hands. “I still hope, though. I imagine they’d elect a skeleton. One as, uh, intelligent and charming as you.”

“Don’t forget sexy.”

“But of course. You’d be the, uh, sexiest president in United States history.”  
  
They both chuckled.

Sans looked at the clock on the wall. His eyes widened as he saw the time. “Obama…” He trailed off, looking away from the clock and back to him. “Our time is almost up. Could we….” He hesitated for a moment. “Could we keep in touch?”

Obama processed for a moment. Sans twiddled his thumbs as a nervous habit, awaiting a response.

“Absolutely,” he answered, a confident smile plastered on his face.

Sans’s expression softened, relieved. He gave him yet another excited kiss. He tried to think of something that wasn’t as cheesy as “I love you” but couldn’t think of anything meaningful. He couldn’t truly express how he felt for him, which was frustrating, but he knew Obama understood.

He grinned, finding joy in the fact that just a word could make him so happy. “I’ll go write down your number and we can try, uh, setting something up.”

Sans pouted as he got off of the carpet to grab paper. He was enjoying their snuggling session and would’ve preferred it if _(his… boyfriend?)_ Obama had less things to take care of and more time to spend with him.

However, he accepted quickly that his duty to the people was important and Sans needed to be there for him instead of against him.

So, he let go too.

After swapping numbers they stood across from one another, picking up their clothes from wherever they’d landed, straightening them and clearing up anything that could give their time together away. They finally sat down, fully dressed, just as the Secret Service entered once more.

Obama cleared his throat. “Well, I’m afraid our meeting ends here, Mr. Undertale,” he announced. His voice returned to a more regal way of speaking that he used when he wasn’t being vulnerable. His professional voice. It startled Sans seeing how quickly he could adapt to it, but he said nothing. Just nodded.

“It was very enlightening to hear you speak as an advocate for all of Monsterkind. I promise that I will do my best to help you all assimilate into American society.” He held a hand out for him to shake.

Sans then realized they hadn’t really talked about helping his people as much as they should have. Most of their “appointment” of sorts was just them going at it.

_Are there cameras in the oval office?_

_Probably._

_…_

_Oh fuck._

His face flushed a deep shade of blue.

“Ah… It was a pleasure meeting with you too, President Obama. It’s very fortunate that the U.S. has such a caring leader put in power. I hope you are able to find ease in your duties,” Sans replied with a polite nod, shaking his outstretched hand curtly.

He clutched a small bit of paper in his other fist. It had been ripped from a corner of Obama’s journal. On it was his phone number etched in dark blue ink.

As he was escorted out of the office, he saw Obama smile at him before the door closed, gentle eyes making him feel things he’d felt for no other person before.

Oh, how he made him melt.


End file.
